


Truth in Friend Fiction

by BlameTheTemplar



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlameTheTemplar/pseuds/BlameTheTemplar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new serial raises more questions than answers when it causes an uproar among Aveline's guards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“A good story, you don't really write. It was always there. You just uncover it.”

                                                                                                                         — Varric Tethras


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aveline discovers a new distraction amongst the guards. She finds herself taking an interest of her own.

     Giggling and hushed whispers met Aveline when she entered the barracks that morning. Donnic had gone ahead of her, rallying the shift for roll call. Still several hung around in pairs or groups, their noses buried in small booklets. Aveline sighed inwardly. Already she found herself cursing the day. She stopped in front of two guards by the posted duty roster. "All right, you two. I'm sure it's very interesting, but it's time to get to work."

     The first guardsman, a woman with named Moira, closed her booklet like a scolded child. "So sorry, Guard-Captain. Can I ask you something first?" She continued upon receiving a stern nod. "Is it, um, is it true?"

     "Is what true?" Aveline responded with a frown.

     "The story," she said, holding up the booklet. The cover read Swords and Shields - Part Three. "Did you and the knight-captain ever have feelings for each other?" The question prompted a choked giggle from the second guardsman.

     Aveline's face burned hot and her jaw set. "That is absolutely none of your business, and how dare you make assumptions from some stupid story!" She snatched the booklets from the guardsmen's hands. "Now get to your places before I have you both dismissed without pay."

     The two guardsmen, still in their off-duty clothes, scurried off. Children, she thought. I'm dealing with children. With an exasperated sigh, she made a short trip to her office. She gave the booklet a closer inspection and found the author’s name, one that shouldn't have surprised her: Varric Tethras. "No wonder," she grumbled to herself, tossing it on her desk and storming back out.

     Over the course of the day, the situation grew worse. The more stories Aveline confiscated, the more appeared. Word spread amongst the guards of their red-faced captain and the tale she didn't want them to be told. Every once in a while, Aveline exchanged a tired glance with Donnic, who could only shrug a reply. By the afternoon she'd finally allowed herself to be confined to her desk, mountains of paperwork on all sides.

     Swords and Shields, all three available instalments, had taken a life of its own. The stacks collected would no longer fit on her desk, and so sat on the floor in the far corner of the room. In her mind, she felt them staring at her, compelling her to come closer. Her occasional pointed glares helped nothing. What could possibly be so interesting? she wondered between glances. When she looked up again, the top-most booklet teetered on the edge of the highest pile.

     "Sod this," Aveline hissed under her breath. She shot up from her chair and stormed over to the pile, snatching it from the top. She returned to her desk with her head bowed, only opening the booklet after she sat down.

_Once, in a time not far from now, Ferelden stood alone against the darkspawn. Led by the valiant and foolhardy King Cailan, the army crushed their enemies at every turn, and many believed only one battle remained. They camped at the ruins of Ostagar for their final stand, right on the border of the dreaded Korcari Wilds. As one might expect, the camp was a muddy one, and often smelled like wet dog._

_Among these doglords, though, was beautiful red-haired warrior named Marguerite - a Fereldan with an Orlesian name._

     The guard-captain couldn't help but laugh. "Really, Varric? You could have at least given me a prettier name."

     Yet she continued to read. She read of Maguerite's curiously familiar escape from darkspawn, and of the husband Fate forced her to leave behind. Each word probed at her mind and tugged at her heartstrings more than she cared to admit. At first she blamed it on mere memories, until suddenly she reached the end. Her bare fingers rubbed at the pages, revealing nothing new that she'd missed. With a sigh, she sat back, reminded of the paperwork still left to do. "I should get back to work." She'd hoped saying it aloud would convince herself to do so. Instead Aveline sat in place and her eyes again fixed on the contraband several feet away.

     Against her better judgement, she returned to the stacks. I know I saw the second one here somewhere. Aveline found it within a few minutes, twice nearly knocking over a pile. She began to read before she made it back to her chair.

     In this instalment, the protagonist and her friend, Hooke--Varric showed quite a skill with names--finally began to make their lives in Kirkwall after a long struggle. Marguerite had just received a new job as a guardsman. However, the real adventure happened in her off-duty hours.

_While walking along the deserted road, Marguerite sensed battle drawing closer. Her impressive muscles twitched with excitement. She and Hooke shared a glance, nodding before running ahead._

_The fighting that awaited them surprised them both. A mass of pride demons surrounded an unseen victim, nothing more than hunks of melting flesh with skirts attached. They screeched and growled, one poised to strike with a clawed hand held high. Suddenly, a bright blue light burst through the demons and pushed them back. They squealed in pain. One reached a shrill pitch as a longsword went through it._

_Marguerite and Hooke charged in. At the centre of the battle they found the handsome knight-captain. Sweat and black demon blood poured down his chiselled features.His beauty nearly distracted Marguerite from an oncoming blow._

     Aveline's heart fluttered. A perfect image of Ser Cullen formed in her mind. Though the battle had not been quite so dramatic, she remembered it well. More fondly she remembered the aftermath - the Templar’s heavy breaths, his sure and measured speech. Her mouth twitched upward as she wondered what it might be like to--

     "I need to stop this." She closed the booklet and tossed it to the side, pulling out the first missive she should have responded to hours ago. A paragraph in, however, she stopped her work to fold the corner of the page where she'd left off in her new distraction. No one would suspect one tiny crease. Looking from side to side as though she might be caught, she stashed the first and second instalment in one of her top drawers. The third, she vowed, she would pick up later. If for no other reason, she could arm herself for the inevitable frustration to come.

     Aveline spent the rest of her work day mostly undisturbed. Few messengers came and even fewer guards. Still at least half of her work remained when she heard a heavy knock on the door.

     "Enter," she called, putting on her best authoritative voice.

     Donnic opened the door and leaned in. He had changed into his off-duty clothes, and his dark helmet hair fell close to his neck and forehead. "Ready to go home, Captain?" He spared a glance toward the paper still on her desk, seeming to guess at her response.

     She gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, dear. Got a bit behind today. You go on ahead. I'll see you at home."

     He nodded with a half smile and left her to it, closing the door behind him.

     Aveline didn't make it home until three hours later, long after darkness had settled over Kirkwall.


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aveline's interest in the story deepens, partly enabled by Varric.

_This, my friends, is where it starts to get interesting…_

     "Aveline, can I ask you a favour?" Varric helped himself to an uncomfortable chair across from her desk, grimacing as he struggled to get in.

     She didn't bother to look up from her work. "Only if it's legal."

     He put on his most boisterous, casually offended tone. He thrust his arms out in front of him and swept them to his sides. "Oh, now what do you take me for? Of course it's legal!"

     "If it's about the Hanged Man again, you can forget it."

     "Aveline, you wound me! How could you think a respectful dwarf such as myself would involve you in his long lost cousin's underhanded schemes?"

     The guard-captain’s voice grew sterner. "The answer is still no."

     "Dammit." Varric pushed off the chair and dropped back onto his feet. "We'll see who's not getting any free drinks when I finally own the place."

     He had started toward the door when Aveline lifted her head. "Varric." He stopped, and for a moment she hesitated. "That story you've been writing, the one about the guard."

     "Ah, yes," he replied, mirth evident in his voice contrasted by waning panic. "I hear it's the talk of the barracks!"

     Aveline's face flushed before she could try to stop it. "Unfortunately, yes. Have you finished the next part?"

     A mischievous grin spread wide across the dwarf's face. "Why? Taking a _special_ interest?"

     She blushed with her whole body then, the warmth near to burning. "I merely want to know how well I should prepare. I don't want disorder again."

     "Tell you what," Varric began, strutting back over to the desk. His hand disappeared beneath his coat and produced a small booklet, identical to the ones confiscated a month before. "This is from the first printing. It won't be official until next week, but you take it. Tell me if you think it'll cause any problems." He tossed it onto her desk with a light smack and headed again for the door. Aveline didn't stop him.

      She stared at the newest edition for a long moment. She considered throwing it in the drawer forever, ridding herself of the temptation. Instead she let out a long, exasperated sigh. Her mind buzzed with activity, with questions left unanswered in the last part of this wretched story. She glanced toward the little remaining paperwork at the side of her desk. _Maybe just a page or two..._ she told herself.

_More often than not in Kirkwall, the interests of their forces intertwined. The Templar and the guard found themselves fighting many more battles together - not without a little intervention from Hooke. Turns out you can tell a lot about a person from the way they fight, and Marguerite liked what she saw. She saw the strength of his swing and the cautious use of his shield. She saw the perseverance that lined his weathered, finely chiselled brow. When the battle ended, she saw a man just trying to do his job - a man who mourned every loss._

_The two shared the occasional glance after these battles. In each one she found a mutual understanding, perhaps even a little guarded interest._

     The last line struck a chord with Aveline. Had she not known any better, she might have thought Varric had stolen her memories. She remembered their first meeting at Wilmod’s camp; she remembered admiring Cullen in the way one warrior does another. Hawke had talked about it for weeks after, making references to torch-carrying and kissing in trees. Funny how the Champion of Kirkwall could be such a child. The then-guard had always denied any accusations brought up to her. Perhaps she had fed the flames more than she realised.

     At that time in their lives, she had had no time to dwell on the possible truth in it. Aveline had chosen to ignore the stolen glances Hawke mentioned, and the ones she thought she saw herself. This led her to wonder if the knight-captain had also read this story, if he had been plagued by similar notions. Immediately she dismissed the thought. Even if he had, what good would come from discussing it? There mere idea tied her stomach in knots.

     She finished the fourth instalment, called “A Silent Courtship”, the same day.

     The guard-captain walked home in the dark. On any other night, she might have followed the guard patrols, but Kirkwall had been under a brief moment of quiet. She travelled the seldom-used back streets in Hightown, not a soul in sight. The dim hanging lanterns gave her little light to see by, but memory moved her forward just as well. As she made her way, she chastised herself. She began to reconsider if the memories she had recalled were true at all. She wondered if perhaps they had been coloured by her imagination - and Varric’s.

     Aveline arrived home to find Donnic waiting for her, reading by candlelight. He lowered the book as she walked in. "Late night again, I see," he said, humourless. "I thought I'd make some dinner for us. It's a bit cold now."

     "I'm sorry. I'll heat it up." She passed him by on the way to the kitchen.

     "Not even a kiss?" he called after her.

     She swore under her breath and returned to him, leaning and planting a lingering kiss on his lips. "Sorry. I've been distracted."

     Donnic seemed to accept this answer. He grinned, running his hand over her upper arm. "Templars running you ragged again?"

     Aveline grinned in turn and nodded. "Yes. Very much so."


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aveline's interest in Varric's serial becomes an obsession, creating a rift in her marriage with Donnic.

        As expected, “A Silent Courtship” caused an uproar in the barracks. As did every edition after it. Varric had even taken to sending her each one ahead of time with a little note attached. At first the notes were benign, all directed at what the dwarf thought the guards' reactions might be. Over the months, they grew more personal, more tailored to her. The newest that arrived on this day read:

_Aveline,_

_You'll love this one. Nice and spicy. Careful where you read it!_

_Your devoted storyteller,_

_Varric_

        The guard-captain huffed at the note, folding it up and setting it aside. Her hand hovered over the cover, fingertips brushing against the edge. Every nerve seemed to come alive when she touched it. Her much vaunted self-control fell away in the presence of mere paper and ink. Her fingers shifted to trace the title: “The Valiant Rescue”. A sceptical, even disappointed look crossed her face. Succumbing to clichés? You can do better than that, Varric. Like so many times before, Aveline spared a glance to the paperwork on her desk. In preparation for the new release, all time-sensitive documents had been sent out. Still, guilt sent a pang through her chest. Against her better judgement, she opened the serial and began to read.

        She had been thankfully wrong about Varric’s narrative prowess. Where she expected Marguerite to be rescued by her new love, it was the knight-captain who needed rescuing. Drawing from the real Qunari invasion, a group of Saarebas and their masters attacked the Gallows. The templars slew most of them, but many men fell to force magic. The knight-captain would have been among the dead had Marguerite not arrived for a timely intervention.

        Aside from the role reversal, the scene played out as one might expect. Aveline fought the urge to roll her eyes at all the dramatic swooning, though a part of her enjoyed the romantic spectacle. Only when the happy couple found themselves alone after the battle did the story grip her again.

_Helping each other out of their armour was an exercise in patience. With the rush of battle surging through them, they tore at leather straps. They yanked at heavy chain. The touch of his strong, callused hands trailed fire over her waist. Marguerite shoved him against the nearest wall, her name on contact falling breathless from his lips._

        Aveline’s imagination filled in the blanks. Cullen replaced the faceless knight-captain, and she Marguerite. Whispers and touches came to her like apparitions tinged with guilt. She turned her head and shoulders away from her reading. Her whole body flushed, and she cupped her hand over her left peripheral. “Varric,” she said as though he were there to be scolded. Her lips pursed, but slowly she mustered the courage—or curiosity—to lower her hand and look again.

_“Don’t you worry about me,” she reassured him with a smirk. “I’ve been waiting for this a long time.”_

_He shook his head and let it fall back against the wall. “It’s not that. You nearly broke my back.” She’d apparently forgotten her legendary strength._

_Marguerite gave an apologetic look and followed it with a husky chuckle. “I’m sure I can make it up to you.” With one hand pressed to the wall beside his head, her own rough fingers travelled down his broad shoulder and over his chest. Every muscle felt like it had been chiseled from the very rock that built the Gallows. A true warrior’s body; she could appreciate that._

_When she reached the waistline of his leather trousers, they shared a glance. Both leaned in for a bruising kiss, nearly clacking teeth. Marguerite pressed her body to his, pinning him tighter to the wall. She let her raised arm fall and curl over his shoulder. Their tongues wrestled for dominance, his only pausing to brush over her swollen bottom lip._

           As she continued, her mouth ran dry. She swallowed only to be met with thick sand where her tongue had been. Heat began to rise from her skin. It crept into her softer, more private places. She didn’t hear the first knock at the door, or the second.

        Suddenly, it opened.

        Aveline jumped at the sound. She dropped the booklet onto its face and covered it with  
her hands.

        Donnic stood in the doorway with his hand still on the knob. He scowled first at the  
offending story, then at her. His brow creased, the lines in his forehead deepening. "Is this what you've been doing all this time?"

        Aveline stuttered, but he cut her off.

        His words grew more insistent as he continued. “You’re barely out of your office, you’re  
never home, and this is it? You’ve just been—reading?”

        The hurt in his tone wrenched her heart, but she shook her head. "No, of course not, dear." She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him that she’d been swept up in the fervour surrounding this story, that she wanted to have Varric taken away as an apostate – if anyone would believe a dwarf commanded magic. No words seemed to properly fit. The worst truth, that she’d begun to harbour feelings for another man, she refused to utter in the barracks.

        Donnic seemed ready to burst at her dismissal, but instead he let out a long sigh. He loosened his grip on the doorknob. “What is it, then? Is being around me so terrible?”

        She looked to the side, choosing her words. “It’s not that. I just need to understand what’s got everyone so worked up.” Not entirely a lie, but certainly not truth either.

        He seemed unconvinced, but let the issue drop. "Well, when you're ready to come back to reality, let me know. I won't wait up." He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving her thankful he made no further scene.

       With a deep sigh, Aveline slumped against her desk and pushed the booklet away. She pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes tight. How did I let it get this far? I feel so bloody stupid. Colours and shapes burst behind her eyelids before she finally opened them and picked up an empty piece of parchment. I need to lay this to rest, she decided. It’s already long out of hand. She dipped her quill in ink and began to write. Before she knew it, the ink had already dried.

_Knight-Captain Cullen,_

_When you're next available, I'd like to speak to you personally. I'm afraid I can't give you the details in writing, but please trust the matter is of great importance._

_Guard-Captain Aveline Hendyr_

        She tucked the serial away in her drawer before calling for a messenger to deliver the missive. The note carried no official seal, only a length of string to tie it together. Once the messenger was gone and the parchment with her, Aveline put her forehead down the desk. She let out a long, slow exhale, and closed her eyes.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After arranging a meeting with the knight-captain, Aveline may finally be able to put her feelings to rest.

        A reply to her missive came the same day. He had sent his in the way she'd sent hers, as unofficial as anything from their offices could be. She turned it over in her hands several times, part of her not wanting to know what it contained. Slowly she mustered her courage and pulled the string that bound the missive together.

_Guard-Captain Aveline,_

_It would be an honour to speak to you personally, though I must admit I wonder at the nature of this. I will be in my office late into the evening tonight, doing mostly minor paperwork. You are welcome to visit at your leisure._

_I look forward to seeing you._

_Knight-Captain Cullen_

        The casual tone of his response sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. He looked forward to seeing her. The more she chastised herself, the more they fluttered. Finally she tucked the note away in what had become her Drawer of Secrets, beneath the serial booklets Varric sent her. It's only a meeting, she told herself. We'll talk about how ridiculous the situation is and I can put these feelings to rest. What remained of the afternoon passed quickly enough with the work in front of her, yet this did little to ease her mounting discomfort.

        She walked to the Gallows in full armour. Aside from the guardsmen on patrol, no-one said a word to her. Still she could feel their gazes burning through the plate. The guards posted in the Templar Hall merely nodded in her direction, their tired faces stoic. She assumed Cullen had sent word to them of her arrival. She nodded in turn and made her way to the knight-captain's office, quickening her pace like a child escaping punishment.

        After being granted permission to enter, she found Cullen in his off-duty tunic. The soft light he worked by fell on him in perfect angles and curves. It accentuated the sharpness of his jaw and thick, muscled frame slightly softened by age and desk work. A glimpse of that torrid scene flashed in her mind. For a moment she swore she felt bare skin through her armoured fingertips. The image so distracted her that she barely heard him speak.

        "Guard-Captain?"

        She shook her head and dispersed the intruding thoughts. "Yes, sorry. Thank you for seeing me, Knight-Captain. I know it was short notice." She closed the door behind her and took the offered seat. She sat closer to the edge than usual, her hands resting in her lap. “May I call you Cullen?”

        “Of course,” he nodded. "My door is always open to you, Aveline. It's a shame our schedules so rarely fit. You mentioned this being a personal call?"

        "Of a sort," she replied. The sound of her own name on his lips felt strangely natural. She squirmed at the thought. "This serial, Swords and Shields. Have you heard about it?"

        His pleasant tone dropped to one of mild annoyance. "Yes. It seems particularly popular among the young women in the order. I can't say I have much knowledge of it, however."

         A short, nervous laugh escaped Aveline. Meeting his gaze through all this proved to be more difficult than she'd realised. "It's the talk of the barracks as well. It's about a guardsman who falls for a Templar knight-captain."

         "Oh." Cullen chuckled through the word. A small grin tugged at his lips and, to her relief, he glanced away from her. "I, um, I suppose I see why you're here, then. Have you, um, have you done anything about this sudden interest?”

         "I don't know what I can do,”she replied with a sigh. She yanked one hand free of its gauntlet and rubbed her fingers against her forehead. “I tried confiscating them, but more keep appearing. I'm sure it just encourages them to read on.”

        He leaned back in his chair. “It’s no surprise. The more you treat something as a scandal, the more people will talk about it. Maker knows my recruits are fond of gossip.”

        “Right.” A hollow smile formed on her face. She considered stopping herself, but before she knew it the words began to flow. “That isn’t the only reason I’m here, though.”

        "I see.” His neutral expression shifted to concern. He leaned forward again with his elbows on the desk. “What’s the other reason?”

        Aveline hesitated. The man’s penetrating gaze disarmed her remaining courage. Still, she could no longer turn back. She opened her mouth to speak, clearing her throat when no sound would come. "Have you ever... thought about us?"

       Cullen's eyes widened. His even-handed exterior fell away in favour of one that mirrored Aveline’s. Like her, he cleared his throat. “I don’t, um, I don’t know you mean.”

       His terrified look betrayed his lie, but she couldn’t fault him for it. In fact, it strengthened her resolve. “Romantically. Look, I know it’s a silly question, but it’s for my own peace of mind.”

        “Aveline, I don’t think this is an appropriate line of questioning.” Worry lined his face, deepening the fine lines and creases until they appeared to be painted on.

        She drew a long breath and exhaled. “Please, Cullen, just tell me. Be honest. Have you ever thought about us together?” She prepared for her pride to flinch. She prepared for an apologetic look. She prepared to gracefully take her leave and never bring it up again.

        Instead she received the truth.

        “Yes,” he replied, glancing away only to look at her a moment later. His voice grew heavy as the weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. “More often than I dare admit.”

 


End file.
